


Short Horned

by comavampure



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comavampure/pseuds/comavampure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric knew the Inquisitor harbored a crush on him the entire time they worked together to defeat Corypheus.  What with the flirting and the occasional glances, but he figured her infatuation was all down to his chest hair.  He never pursued her, plus she had more than enough suitors to keep her busy.  Only now, months later does he suspect she still harbors those same feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Horned

She was always a woman of as little words as possible, Varric noted.  Sure, Astal Adaar could give speeches that would stun you. But the meaningful silences that preceded them were heavy with emotion and purpose.  He’d always wondered how she came up with half the shit she said.  He’d asked her once.  “I improvise.”  Was her solemn quiet response while they trekked through the Hissing Wastes searching for Dwarven ruins. 

The storyteller should have guessed as much.  She kept her secrets close, closer than he’d like.  Any time he’d accompanied her, she never responded to his stories or anything he said.  Of course she didn’t with anyone.  Which worked for her role as Inquisitor.  She was all serious expressions and powerful strides just like Andraste was depicted.  The last game he had arranged he’d told her as much.  She had responded with “I’m not a statue” With a deadpan expression.  He hadn’t known it had been a joke until she looked at him with one eyebrow raised and then shook her head to walk away.

It’s one of the reasons why he arranged this game of Wicked Grace, again. He just couldn’t pin point each of her expressions and they had spent a year travelling and traipsing across Southern Thedas together.  So far the only expressions he’d seen on her were Stoic concentration, neutral sympathy, obvious flirting, and mildly amused.  Even Tiny had a hard time distinguishing her thoughts and feelings.

He could remember the night Iron Bull had tried to sneak past him in the main hall to go up to her quarters.  Tiny, like many of the other companions had been one of Adaar’s targets for her flirting.  Even he’d been a target at one point, until she met Bianca; the real Bianca.  

But that night Tiny had walked up and he’d expected the Qunari wouldn’t come out until the early morning but not twenty minutes later he was back, walking away while shaking his head. Unusual considering how heated the looks between the two had been.  When he’d asked, Iron Bull had simply said “I misread her” and quickly moved the topic to other matters.

At least when Blackwall and she had been together, Hero had been a little more forthcoming. He said, Astal doesn’t get mad, which is true.  He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her turn aggressive outside of battle.  Calm collected patience made even those they interrogated on the field spill their personal secrets. 

Hero had also said when Adaar furrowed her brows, she was more often than not disappointed.  Not in you, no but in herself. 

She had that look anytime she looked at Blackwall now.  When Astal found out the truth she ended that relationship but hadn’t condemned the not Warden, choosing to give him his freedom instead.  Again, Varric had asked her why she had done it.  Not for any particular reason, although he was writing a book, she’d responded with the most well thought out answer he’d ever heard in favor of sparing anyone. 

“He feels guilt.  That is the worse punishment anyone could be inflicted with. To live out their life with that reminder.  It will haunt him the rest of his days, wake him up in the middle of the night.  And there is no excuse.  He did it, and he will always remember it.  I could have given him to the Grey Wardens, but that would give him what he wants.”  Sera had been mightily pissed at that when she heard and Blackwall had disappeared for days after learning it.

Calm and collected, that was the Inquisitor he knew.  But that judgement and her reasons, that was both a mercy and cruel at the same time when you think about it.  Varric was unsure if he’d include that in the book.  Yet still, she hadn’t broken that exterior any more than she had already. 

Astal sat there looking over her cards.  She’d claimed she had never played last time yet she hadn’t lost a hand ever, but she never won much.  Varric was on to her.  While he couldn’t always tell through her stoic exterior, he could see the small lift of her lips from where he was sitting.  Either she found the story Cullen was telling of his days thinking then Templar-Recruit Alistair, now King, was a pompous noble was funny or she had a winning hand.  And judging by the way her eyes flicked up to look at him, he’d guess she was about to drop a winning hand. 

Pursing his lips, he raised the stakes just as everyone got their drinks.  He slid ten more silvers into the ever growing pile. 

Curly choked and did the sensible thing, folded.  Tiny folded, Ruffles folded and the Inquisitor… she was frowning.  After a deep silence filled the tavern, she folded with a sigh and then downed another… whatever she and Tiny were drinking.

There was something wrong though.  That sigh was overdone.  Varric reached over to her cards and flipped them over, catching only a glimpse of the best hand you could have before Astal turned them back over quickly and pushed them to the pile of other cards.  He looked up to see her brows furrowed and her cheeks slightly flushed as she met his gaze and knowing look. 

He almost wanted to tease her but then she ducked her head shyly and left quickly.  The others noting her abrupt exit.  

Well, shit. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little experiment I did a few months back to see if I could write in Varric's POV and I decided to make it a small fluff piece. I _may_ continue it simply because there aren't nearly enough AdaarxVarric stories and I rather like that pairing, if only for my own headcanon. (Damn you Bioware! Why can't I romance Varric!?)


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